Coping
by MoonNRoses
Summary: Post CF. Haymitch is thrown into working with Effie on gathering information on the Capitol. They find a new way to start coping with their emotions. WARNING!


**Warning:** There is substance use in the form of alcohol, and mentions of substance use containing the fictional morphling in this story. There is also a reference to sex.

**A/N:** I'm taking a short break from _Firestarter_ and _Souls on Fire_. Don't worry, I'll return soon. I've hit a road block and I'm hoping to recover soon.

**Dedication:** This is for all of the fans out there that love the idea of Haymitch and Effie actually getting together. If you're not fan, read anyway. You may surprise yourself.

Haymitch sat in the dimly lit bar not far from the landing area in District 13. His hand cupped a glass holding amber liquid. He did not miss the liquor Ripper distilled in District 12, but he did find that the slow burn of the whiskey from District 13 had to be savored. It also meant there was more time to brood. He hated to brood. He loved the feeling of not being able to think, because if he couldn't think, he couldn't remember.

There were so many deaths in his short life. He wasn't even forty and he felt he lived a hundred lifetimes for each death he had experienced. There wasn't just the death that haunted from his Hunger Games, but all the deaths of all the children he had ever _mentored_ in that god awful sport. So, it labeled him drunk? What does it matter which way he chose to cope?

Haymitch sighed as he sipped the drink and felt the familiar burn down his throat. No one could truly understand the feelings he needed to drown out. And here, finally, in District 13, he no longer had to talk to other people who wanted to rebel in dark corners. Finally, here, he was free to be involved and out in the open with his rebellion. It helped to battle the darkness in his soul to be able to push those years of watching so many helpless die. To where it wasn't in the forefront of his mind to bring about a world in which others could possible escape that fate. _And then!_ He thought sullenly. And then she had to show up in her colorful wigs and clothes and clanking jewelry to wreck his much needed concentration.

Effie Trinkett, escort to the District 12 tributes, was here in District 13. Flamboyant, excessive, and annoyingly beautiful Effie was pushing everything right back in his face. Oh, he had been trying to shut her out. He done everything he could do to avoid her for days and even weeks as data poured in from the spy network he had painstakingly helped create with Plutarch Heavensbee across Panem. Reports were pouring in from all of the Districts on the reception of the District 13 forces and the rebels from within. Sometimes Haymitch heard multiple times a day from Katniss herself who was currently hunting in the Capitol with Peeta and Gale for the disgraced President Snow.

But was he in his office reading over the reports and trying to gauge Snow's next move? No, he thought hatefully as he stared at the amber liquid in his glass. _Someone_ thought it would be a good idea to have Effie's help on navigating the Capitol information. As if he, Haymitch Abernathy, needed _her_ help! Flighty, plucky and utterly useless Effie Trinkett could help him? If he needed fashion advice, and only in the Capitol way of fashion, would he possibly need her help. But he didn't care about fashion, Capitol or any other.

He was scowling into his glass when Effie walked in. She sighed as she realized her instincts were right. Haymitch Abernathy could always be found near a glass of liquor. She hated to prove herself in this case. On heels that any other woman would never wear, Effie walked fast and sure to his table. He glowered over at her with his stone cold gray eyes as she scraped a chair back and sat down in swirl of green fabric. Her gold bracelets jangled together as she waved to the bartender and made a motion for a drink. Then she looked back at Haymitch and surveyed him while her green nails beat out a rapid tattoo on the scared wooden table. A sad looking girl delivered a glass of amber liquid and silently drifted away. She was out of Effie's mind even as she picked up the glass tumbler and took a drink. She hissed at the burn it made down her throat, but she still locked her bright green eyes with Haymitch's gray ones. "I figured I could find you here," Effie said in a soft tone.

"Yeah, what else do you figure about me?" he asked her in his rough voice. As disgusted as Effie had been at being paired with him for years as he drunk himself into stupor after stupor, Effie couldn't help the reaction she had each time his rough voice cruised over her skin. It sent goose bumps running up her spine. His black hair curled over the rim of his collar in a way that made her notice just how badly he needed a hair cut. Dark stubble darkened his jaw and made his go to hell stare all the more alluring. What is wrong with her?

Effie shrugged her shoulders and the bracelets jangled at the movement. "Other than the fact that all I've ever known of you is to drink yourself in a stupor? I saw a different side of you in the 74th Games, Haymitch. I saw you fight to keep that girl alive when I haven't seen you fight like that in years. And then, in the following year, I saw a side of you I never thought…" her voice trailed off and her green eyes looked away. She caught sight of the sad looking girl putting up glasses.

Haymitch studied her profile as she looked away. He was shocked to notice that she wasn't wearing one of her signature wigs. At least, that didn't look like a wig. Her hair was very short and tight with curls. It was a beautiful shade of dark red. A beautiful shade of auburn that was a much better contrast with her bright green eyes than some pink wig. Without the presence of whatever brightly colored wig, her face was even more beautiful than usual. When she caught him staring, he looked away. He didn't need this and he didn't need her.

"And now you're back here and drinking again," she said in a mocking tone.

"So are you," he pointed out with motion towards her drink.

Effie huffed. "At least I know the difference between enjoying my drink and inhaling it," she bit out.

Haymitch shrugged and finished off his drink. He smacked his lips and thumped his glass on the table. If he could annoy the hell out of her, maybe she would leave him the hell alone. Some scent like lavender was swirling around him and he couldn't take much more of her presence. "Is there something you wanted, Trinkett?" he bit out.

She raised her eyebrows at his tone. "As a matter of fact, there is," she said softly with her glittering green eyes direct on his.

Did she just mean what he thought she meant? A sudden shock of longing swept through him. He looked away from her. "And that would be?" he said harshly.

"It would be to go over the information and help those kids," she told him in a voice that stated he should have already known that.

He shoved back from the table so forcefully that his chair went crashing to the floor. "And what would you know about helping them, Trinkett? There are no interviews to conduct or tours to plan! There are no outfits to coordinate and manners in a war! Just what do you think you can bring to the table?"

Effie stood up in a whisper of fabric. Her hands shook and she clenched at her sides in fists. A rosy blush spread across her ivory skin as she looked at Haymitch. "Information," she bit out. "Something you should know something about."

His eyes narrowed on hers shrewdly. Then his hand whipped out and grabbed her arm in a bruising grip. "Put the drinks on my tab, Able," he called out as they walked out of the building and back into the bright underground lights of District 13.

"You're hurting me," Effie cried out as he dragged her along the walkway. He didn't even care of she tripped on those deadly heels. Who in the hell wore shoes with spikes on them anyway? It put her about eye level with him and if he looked over at her their mouths were pretty much in the same spot. Her heart shaped face with her big green eyes looked at him in fear and he swore. He loosened his hold but he didn't let her go as he propelled her into his office on the outside of the Justice Building and slammed the door.

The office, if one could call it that, was just slightly larger than a janitorial closet. It had a metal desk with some kind of sophisticated computer system that Haymitch was forever calling someone in to help him with, reams of paper and data pads with reports on the war, and maps covered in food stains, drink stains, and red pencil X's. It had two old chairs with holes in the leather in front of the desk and one slightly larger chair behind the desk.

"Sit," he ordered as he pushed her into a chair and finally released her. He beat down the guilt as she rubbed the feeling back into her arm. Her bracelets jangled with motion and he looked down at his charts and maps and reports. "Well?" he bit out.

Effie tried to rescue her damaged pride as she lifted her chin. "Well, for starters, I contacted an old friend of mine in the Capitol."

Haymitch squinted at her. "And then?" he prompted as he moved his hand in a forward motion to get her to the next point.

"Well, I'll have you know, Abernathy," she said his last name scathingly, "that it isn't easy contacting people in the Capitol these days. But I was able to talk to this old friend of mine on a secure connection."

Haymitch leaned back into his chair. "All lines out of District 13 are secure. Now, the point of this would be?" he asked. Her scent was filling his office and was causing an almost physical pain within him. His fingers itched to touch her skin. Was it as soft as it looked?

"Well, Anton told me that the President will be attending a rally for those who, supposedly, support the Capitol's position next week." She said it like a cat that just ate a canary. The smile on her face was of such feline satisfaction that Haymitch blinked a few times before he realized what she just said.

"A rally for Capitol supporters?" he asked as he flipped through papers on his desk looking for a pen. He came up with a red pencil and scribbled notes on the back of chart. "What building? What day? What time?"

Effie smiled as she leaned back in the chair. She relayed the information and watched, fascinated, as he stood up. He walked over to a bank of communication equipment. This was a different Haymitch. This was the hidden Haymitch with a purpose and a mission. His gray eyes were knife sharp as he relayed the information into the communicator. He smiled grimly as they heard Katniss's reply.

Then he turned to look at her as if he noticed she was still there. He studied her intently. "Can this be traced back to you?" he asked.

"Probably. Anton knows that we have what I would call differing opinions. But seeing as how he is a prideful peacock, he was blabbing the plans to any one who would listen since he has been chosen to escort some of the supporters to the rally, including the President's secretary. The information is sound, Abernathy."

He nodded but he didn't take his eyes from her. "Why are you helping us now?" he asked.

Effie shrugged causing the fabric to tighten slightly on her curvy form before pooling back into emerald folds. "Because we all have our ways of coping, Haymitch, don't we? You drank to escape the helplessness and I twittered my time away with clothes and fashion. I became the shallowest of the shallow and hoped that if I got some Victors in District 12, I could be moved to another that didn't have quite so many deaths. Do you think I'm cold as stone? Do you think I actually liked getting to know those children and then stand by and watch them killed year after year?" Her voice started to rise with each word until she started to shout. "Do you actually think I'm that stupid to not recognize barbarianism?"

His eyes widened at her outburst. Had he thought those things? Yes, yes he did. And now he was starting to see her with new eyes. Was all this passion hidden away all this time? "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"Because you were drunk!" she shouted at him. She got up and started to pace on those dangerous heels.

The trouble was, Haymitch thought, there wasn't much room in his tiny office. She came close and twirled to pace in the other direction. The soft fabric touched him, her scent wrapped around him, and the fire in her eyes ignited him. He didn't know why he did it and didn't even realize it until his fingers clenched her arm and turned her to face him. Her eyes went wide and her breath came out in a surprised gasp. "Since I'll probably be welcomed in hell anyway," he murmured and then he crushed his mouth to hers. For years, women chased him to be with the Victor of the Second Quarter Quell Games. But no one was as soft as the woman in his arms. Women kissed him with fervor, but none with the surprised pleasure that Effie did when she sighed into his mouth. Women surrendered their bodies to him to be with someone famous, but no one went pliant in his arms like Effie did with her whole being.

His fingers gripped her arms as he pulled her flush against him and her soft breasts pressed against his chest. Her hands fluttered helplessly until they could fist into his black shirt and she held on as his angry mouth devoured hers. Her breath came out in a strangled gasp as he pulled away. His eyes took in her swollen lips and her green eyes dark with passion. "Effie," her name came out in a muttered oath.

"Haymitch," she pleaded in a hoarse voice. There was pleading in it. Her tongue licked her lip as if to taste him again. He tasted of something dark and sensual flavored with warm whiskey. Her breath shuddered out of those impossibly full pink lips.

He skimmed his mouth along her jaw and his whiskers scratched the smooth skin of her neck. "Tell me to stop. Please tell me to stop," he told her as his hands went down her arms and to her back.

"Never," she breathed and with her heart pounding in her ears, she gripped his shirt and pulled him close.

"To hell with us both," he muttered darkly and crushed her mouth to his again. His hard and rough hands roamed the soft fabric of her back as his mouth assaulted hers. She moaned deep long in her throat and it vibrated through him. He turned and pushed her against the wall as so that his hands could cruise over her. His hands touched her plump breasts, her hips and her thighs. He pulled a leg up and settled it over his waist. She moaned again as her nails raked along his back and up to his hair.

"Too much fabric," he muttered against her lips. Then he ripped the green fabric from her neck so that he could feast on her pulse. She cried out from the shock of it as his teeth latched onto her neck. She felt like she was being eaten alive and loved every minute of it.

He roughly pulled back and looked at her again. Maybe he was too rough? Maybe he was going too fast? Then she surprised him as a slow smile spread across her face and set one of her dimples winking mischievously. She reached up with those green tipped nails and ripped his shirt open. Her fingers splayed across the dark mat of hair on his chest. She raked her nails through it and took her time looking. He was lean, but he was muscled. Ever since he trained for the third Quarter Quell, he had been keeping up with the exercise. A hum of approval shuddered through her as her hand lowered across his stomach.

He cursed as he took her hand and roughly pulled it above her head and anchored it against the wall. He pulled her other hand above her head and anchored it with his other hand. Then he slowly moved his hand over her and started to pull the green fabric from her shoulders. Of course, the woman wasn't wearing a blessed thing underneath. The look of it undid him. "Effie," he said in a strangled voice.

Then his rough fingers brushed the most intimate part of her and she cried out in wonder and pleasure. His mouth covered hers as she cried out and he swallowed the scream. She went limp underneath his hands. He grabbed her hips and picked her up to sit her on the edge of his desk. He peeled the rest of the fabric from her body and was happy to see her work on his belt. When her fingers brushed him, he quivered. He felt young and different. There wasn't another care in his world than this beautiful woman on his desk and looking up at him with so much want in her eyes. When his pants were at his ankles, he grabbed her hips and entered her.

Stars… he saw stars; millions and millions of stars as her warmth clamped around him. She cried out again as they started to move together. Her nails raked his back under his shirt. His dark gray eyes fastened on hers. Then she threw her head back as she tightened around him and he groaned as he released his soul with hers.

When he came to, he realized he was lying awkwardly on top of her. She was soft and pliant underneath him. He rose up to look down at her. The feline smile was back on her lips and her eyes were a dark green as she looked at him. Then, they both burst out laughing.

"So, my flat or yours?" she asked as she moved seductively under him.

"Mine is closest," he murmured as he kissed up her neck.

She smiled. "I'm ready when you are."

He looked down at her. He didn't know what this was but he was going to see it through. She pushed everything else out of his mind until it was completely filled with her. He sat stood up to dress. "Do you think we can make it?"

She slipped the green material back on, and now that he knew what was underneath it, he was dying to rip it from her again. She smiled. "Let's hurry."

Haymitch smiled as they left his office. He didn't see the surprised looks from others at the smile. He was thinking of nothing but Effie. Then the thought hit him that made him start to laugh. Haymitch just found his new coping mechanism.

**A/N:** Please be kind and leave a review.


End file.
